


Field of Dreams

by KarieChaos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Language, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Voyeurism, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 12:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarieChaos/pseuds/KarieChaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's pretty sure he can't have Dean. It looks like Dean had other ideas about what Sam could and could not have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Field of Dreams

Field of Dreams  
By: Karie Chaos

Disclaimer:  
I don't own any of it. I can only borrow the ideas and write fun smutty things for it. Sam/Dean slash, so if that's not your thing, please just move along. If it is, read on my friend!

 

~*~

 

Sam sat with his laptop in front of him, blocking himself off from the bar as he pretended he was doing 'research', looking for their next job. Instead his eyes were staring over the top edge of the lid, watching his brother as he flirted shamelessly with some girl at the bar. He could see the edge of Dean's cock-sure grin from here, could tell by the way he was leaning in that he was chatting her up while at the same time getting a look down the front of her low-cut shirt. Sam had the urge to go over and drag his brother away by the back of the neck, and at the same time he wanted to tell the girl that in no way, shape, form or on any other plane of existence (and they'd seen many) would she ever be sleeping with all of that.

Unfortunately they were in public and Dean would just frown at him if he got up and stormed over. So he settled further into the hard wooden chair and frowned at the sight as the girl leaned in, her hand sliding along Dean's thigh. 'Yeah,' he thought, 'it feels good doesn't it?' He'd had his hand there, the scratch of denim warm under his hand, tight over the muscled flesh beneath it and flexing with the motion of Dean's body. Honestly, he only had so much self control, dammit, and it wasn't like he could throw his brother down and have him.

Well.

Not and live to see the next day anyhow.

Maybe.

He shook his head and ducked when he saw Dean's muscles flex in preparation for looking over. He could almost hear the sugary sound of “What're you looking at?” over the thump of music from the sound system. He wouldn't look, he knew Dean, he'd just grin and say “Nothin'” before he pretended he hadn't been checking on Sam. He glanced up after a long count and still found Dean watching. His brother's grin flashed across the bar and Sam could only laugh silently and shake his head before he closed the laptop, fingers dancing over the decal stuck to the lid. A gift from Dean, nothing special, but he had rescued it from his other laptops when they got busted. He shoved the laptop in his bag and pushed back from the table, jerking his head toward the door before heading that way. Dean held up two fingers and then turned back to his companion before ducking around and weaving his way to the bathrooms in the back.

'Dean, you fucking idiot,' Sam thought with exasperation.

~*~

The hotel was silent except for the murmur of the television in the next room and the breathing across the room in the other bed. Sam lay there with his hand behind his head, eyes staring into the darkness. Another monster down, never to prey on the innocent and unknowing. Another night patching up wounds that while not life threatening were still a nuisance. He had to bandage Dean, a swipe across his back with claws had penetrated his t-shirt and he couldn't reach to clean it up. He had rolled his eyes and ripped a chunk from the front of Dean's shirt, it was ruined now anyway, and wrapped it so it wouldn't bleed all over his brother's precious Baby.

Then he'd gotten to touch him, hands all over his brother's skin as he washed it out, made Dean hiss at the burn of alcohol and then taped a bandage over it firmly. He flexed his fingers, remembering the feel of his skin under his fingertips as he smoothed the tape into place. He shifted slightly, being quiet before he sat up, pushing the blankets off his legs and swinging out of bed. He leaned down, sliding his shoes on, using a finger to run around the heel of the left one as it caught slightly on his sock and then he was heading for the door. He had to get out of sight of the room, of Dean, of society. Just for twenty minutes.

He slid the door open, the key scooped up from the table and then he was out, easing it shut behind him to keep it from waking Dean. His brother slept on a hair-trigger most of the time, so he took care to keep quiet, to let him get some freaking rest. He moved along the cracked pavement to the end of the hotel and then he vaulted over the short fence that separated it from the field beyond. He moved through the tall grass in a quick stride, glad that he'd decided to just drop down with his jeans on. Sometimes he didn't have time to grab clothes, so they slept in what they had on a lot.

When he was far enough away he was sure his voice wasn't going to carry too much he stopped, stripping his shirts off and then throwing them down over the grass before he lay down on them, hiding in the over-grown field. The night was cool on bare skin, but he didn't mind it. He stared up at the scatter of stars and took a deep breath. This was getting out of hand.

Or into his hand.

Whatever.

He thumbed the button open, the rasp of the zipper lost in the rustle of wind through the grass before he shifted them down on his hips and wrapped a hand around himself. He could picture Dean without ever closing his eyes, easily building them image of the smug grin, self-satisfied and arrogant with green eyes sparking mischief from under a short shock of light-brown hair. He arched slightly into his hand, breath panting from his chest as his hand worked himself to the image in his brain.

“Dean...,” his voice drifted away in the wind, but here he could say it, away from everyone else he could say it without worrying. “Dean, Dean... Nggh...”

He was close when he heard his name, and for a minute he thought he was imagining it, the soft echo of sound just above the wind.

“Sam!”

Then he heard it again, closer. He jerked half-way upright, trying to yank his hand out of his pants and fasten them, hide behind the fabric. But he caught his thumb in the teeth of the zipper and before he could get his clothes fixed Dean was there, pushing along the fading path of Sam's own exodus. He came to a sudden halt and blinked a couple of times before that grin drifted over his face, even in the dark Sam knew his brother's eyes had lit up with amusement.

“Oh, so this is what you were doing? My bad, did I interrupt you and Sarah Palmer?”

Sam's face flushed and he tried to scowl. He never could get it right and Dean chuckled, before he came closer and crouched down, arms resting across his knees, hands dangling into the empty space between his thighs and drawing Sam's gaze before he pulled it up, his cock twitching from where it was trapped half inside his pants.

“You left the motel for this? Seriously? You're going to get ticks or something out here, man. You could'a just gone to take a 'shower'.”

He choked briefly, the idea of using the sound of the water to cover his loud moans horrifying. Dean would have heard him.

“I didn't want to- To wake you. You can go back...”

“Nah, I'm up now.”

Sam swallowed hard, and he saw Dean's eyes drop to the bob of his Adam's apple, and that just made him have to swallow a second time. Dean was just wearing his jeans, he'd never bothered to grab a shirt, just gone straight to bed, so having him here was not helping. He certainly wasn't making Sam's erection any smaller. If anything having the older man here was just making him harder, hungrier.

“Seriously, you can go back to the room or something...”

He made a half-hearted gesture, as if to say 'Hello, do you not see what's wrong here?' and then his hand jerked to a stop and dropped to the ground when Dean's eyebrow winged up.

Oh that could NOT be good.

“Nah.”

Oh. 

Shit.

Sam didn't know what to do when his brother surged forward, his crouch providing enough power to knock Sam back, his hands caught in Dean's rough grip while his mouth was covered with the other's. He didn't even have time to try and protest, Dean just swept it all away, his tongue curling over Sam's bottom lip, testing the texture of his mouth in spine-melting laps and slides. Sam could only make a groaning noise in his throat, his whole body curling up against Dean. He felt him shift his arms, pulling Sam's up over his head until he could trap both hands with one of his. Sure, his grip wouldn't hold if Sam really wanted out, his hands weren't really big enough to secure Sam's bigger bones, but the hell if Sam was pulling away now! It might never happen again!

He hooked a leg over Dean's calf, so that he could leverage himself up, hips rising in search of friction. Dean chuckled into the kiss and held himself up out of reach, which made Sam moan in frustration, kissing back desperately. Then Dean's mouth was gone, and he was grinning down again and his free hand was shoving it's way down into Sam's pants.

“DEAN!”

He couldn't help it, he yelped his brother's name, his head jerking back as fire shot down his spine, hips bucking as his shoulders dug into the ground through his shirts. He couldn't look away as Dean fisted him, the dark muting the green of their eyes, but he didn't need light to see his brother's thoughts, as if he could just pick them out of the air.

“Dean, no! Don't- urgh~!”

He choked off into a groan as Dean tightened his hand and gave a hard stroke, the rough callouses on his hand from guns, knives, stakes and everything else they had ever trained to use tugging at sensitive skin, shocking him into bucking his hips, both to get more and maybe to get away again. He wasn't sure his brain wasn't leaking out his ears, quite honestly, and he didn't care. He didn't pull at his hands, but he dug his heels into the dirt, arching into the touch. A few strokes later his hand was gone and Sam panted raggedly as he blinked the dots from his eyes. Then he felt it, leather wrapping around his wrists, pulled snug and buckled into place. He craned his neck, looking up as far as he could to see Dean's belt looped around his wrists and arms, making it impossible to grab for him. He wasn't sure where, but somewhere he'd gotten hold of a piece of metal and was stabbing it through the web of leather and into the ground.

“Dean?”

“Sam, shut up.”

He blinked and looked at him, a frown pulling at his lips. Dean just gave him an exasperated sigh.

“I just want your hands to stay fucking put, and I need mine, so would you stop being such a girl and just let me work here?”

He blinked but then Dean's hands were pushing the jeans clinging to his brother's hips down, and he had hooked his boxers at the same time, exposing a swath of lighter skin where his jeans usually sat, the line sharp in the dark between his tanned upper body and his lighter hips. He grinned briefly himself and absently ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, imagining pinning Dean down this way and then licking his way all over that lighter flesh. He heard Dean moan and looked up, his brother's eyes almost black in the dark, save for the whites of his eyes.

“I don't know what thought you just had, but god damn, Sammy, I want it.”

He blinked and then he laughed, shifting uncomfortably.

“God, Dean, you're so fucked up.”

“Its been said.”

He laughed again and then moaned, arching and staring up at him.

“I'll tell you later, but just, do SOMETHING, before I explode.”

Dean groaned and the jeans were thrown aside, vanishing in the grass somewhere before his hands were pulling the zipper the rest of the way down on Sam's and peeling them down his long legs, his mouth following the path, licking and nipping his way along his hip and down his thigh before he sat up and jerked Sam's shoes off and threw everything to the winds. Sam started to protest, but then Dean's hands were pinning his hips down and he was going down on him, sending fireworks exploding into his eyes and through his brain. He didn't know where Dean had learned this, but he both wanted to thank the man and put a bullet in his brain for having had Dean's hands and mouth on him.

Then Dean was shifting over him and he stared at him before Sam was sure what was going on. Then he felt heat and tightness and he moaned, his head kicking back, throat tight as he gasped.

“Fuck, Dean!”

“Sam!”

He fisted his hands in their bonds, and he shook as he fought the urge to thrust up as Dean sat back, his own head canted back, hands digging hard into Sam's ribs as he settled in, Sam buried in him to the hilt. He shuddered at the image of his brother over him, body tight and arched as he rose a little and then rocked back, the play of light from the moon and shadow in the dark highlighting bits of him beautifully. He wanted to get his hands, his mouth, his everything, on that gorgeous image, but he couldn't. 

Later. 

Soon.

He had to have it again.

He could only shudder and moan as Dean adjusted, his knees tight at Sam's hips as he rocked down on him, lifting and falling as he shuddered. Sam couldn't stop it when Dean moaned his name, he rocked his hips up to meet him, making Dean's eyes shoot open as he cursed to the sky, obviously something had been hit.

“Fucking hell! Fuck, again!”

He rocked down harder and Sam obliged, thrusting up to meet his movements jerkily, wishing he could get free and flip them over, pound Dean into the ground, make him moan. Instead he tensed under him, words dropping from his mouth without his brain's consent, praise, damnation, desperation and need as he went over the edge, his whole body bucking up, his voice an echo in the wind.

“DEAN!”

He didn't have a chance to stop, Dean leaned over him, biting down on his left nipple sharply before he sat up and rocked harder against him as Sam pulsed. Dean came across his stomach, sticky and white and thick as his body clenched around Sam, making him yelp. He was too sensitive and it pulled a pulse from him, and he shuddered, pulling away and pushing up at the same time. Dean sagged finally, dropping down, his hands thumping against the ground to either side of Sam's chest and they both panted, sucking in air desperately as their bodies cooled. Sam groaned and shifted, but he was pinned and couldn't move. Dean hissed and slowly lifted off, both of them groaning at the feel of separation.

“The hell was that, man?”

Sam turned his head to look at Dean who was sprawled in the grass, uncaring of his sweaty, sticky state. He had come to get away and this was not what he'd expected. He wasn't complaining, exactly, but he thought he deserved an explanation at the very least. Dean just cracked open his eyes and groaned, slowly pushing himself up, wincing just a little before he screwed up his face and made a sound that was a distinct 'eeeewwww' if Sam ever heard one.

“Seriously? You want to do this now? Do you want fucking bullet points, Samantha?”

“Don't be such an ass, Dean. I mean it, what the HELL, since when do you- Well, do that?”

“I don't fucking know. Since a while. Fuck, does it even matter? Are you seriously going to bitch about this? You were the one beating off saying my name, I thought-”

“Shit, you followed me the whole time? Jesus, Dean, I was trying to get away so you didn't hear!”

“You left in the middle of the damn night, I was fucking worried, I thought something was wrong! You're the one hiding out in the weeds getting off to your brother!”

“So are you!”

They stared at each other for several breaths before someone choked, and that was it. They both broke into laughter, Dean falling forward against Sam's chest, shoulders shaking with mirth. It took a minute before he sat up again with another mumbled 'gross' and wiped a hand over his face, smears of dirt showing up at his jaw from his fingertips.

“Look. I followed you. You fucking got hot, Sammy, what am I, blind? Its not like we've ever had a normal life, we have each other. That's it. Fuck, I am only going to say this once, and if you ever tell anyone, I will shoot you. I fucking need you. So stop being a bitch and say thank you and I'll let you up.”

Sam sucked in air, laughter fading before he groaned and pulled at his hands.

“Let me go, jerk, so I can get my hands on you or so help me, I will find a way.”

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned up, his stomach hiding the sky from Sam's face as he worked to undo the belt, grumbling a couple of times about how tight Sam had pulled it. Then his hands were free and he grabbed Dean, shifting him down and sitting up. He ran a hand up to clamp around the back of his neck and yanked him into a kiss, both men groaning as they tangled around each other in the dark. He pulled away just far enough to speak, pressing his forehead to Dean's so that the words stayed low and intimate, just for Dean.

“I fucking need you too, so shut up.”

He kissed him again and then Dean pulled away and rocked to his feet, making a face.

“Okay, chick moment over. I'm going to go take a shower. I have your come leaking down my leg and it's fucking disgusting.”

Sam choked and laughed and shifted, looking for their clothes. He had no idea where they were in the grass.

“Uh, Dean-” He started to ask if he'd found them but when he looked up Dean was already striding away with a slight limp to his step, naked, the moonlight pouring over him. Sam's breath choked off and he forgot about his clothes, surging after him.

He really hoped the shower was big enough for two.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Please please please leave some sort of feedback for me, it keeps me writing. If no one says they like it, I don't know!


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